Beast of Burden
by Charro
Summary: Dreams that cannot be.


Beasts of Bearden

He looks around the hotel room that he calls home for now with heavy heart consistently running from his life sentence of being their guinea pig in a place known as 'the Centre'.

A few clothes, different Pez dispensers, different toys, a few photo's, he has and his personal life on DSA's for him to analyze, and he sobs into his hands.

His life spread out before him on the bunk bed makes him sick. The other items sent to them just for the hell of it, something to fill theirs lives with; his chocolate eyes have no twinkle in them tonight. He was and is a modern day outlaw to this day.

His laptop an endless source of crucial information for him another person he would have become when the minute came and he muses about having a current impressive career setting at a desk giving the same each day would be a dream come true for him.

A choice that is his and not theirs!

A loving spouse with kids and a home with white picket fence he pictures before him anxiously waiting with open arms for daddy and loyal husband to come home after a long day at the office. The smell of home cooking awaits him, hugs and kisses for daddy and the particular taste of his woman's lips with warm arms to hold him with at night.

Tedious for some men, not for him, and he weeps wanting that family too cherish…alas he cannot!

A dream that he understands would never come true and the tears rain down. He feels so empty, his heartbeat tells him that he is alive but he seems dead inside. Each few days choosing who and what he would become with his forehead resting on the windowpane, eyes shut, with his hands in his jean pockets.

He jumps at the sound of a car door closing and he witnesses a couple sharing a kiss with another heavy sigh as he scans the parking lot for his huntress, his skin seems to crawl as though he was being watched and he pulled the curtains together.

His legs have a mind of their own and he walks to the bed. A genius, a pretender, who could become any one that he wants to be, except himself with him rummaging through the fake I.D. Badges, and he asked the significant question which seems to have no reply.

"Who am I?" He asks frantically searching through the fake badges and he sobs setting alone on the bed endlessly pursuing for some peace of mind.

His mother, Margaret, out there somewhere and he initially started to wonder if that was indeed the way she definitely wanted it. His brother, Kyle, was cruelly murdered by, Lyle. A precious sister he finds her name Emily. His father, Major Charles, he literally ran into as well as his clone, Gemini.

What a shocker that was coming front to face with your-self.

Another shocker, a half-brother, Ethan, he share with his huntress and he weeps they would stop at basically nothing to have what they wanted. All has hidden from the predators, no real life would they always have, no outings like a typical family could they have.

Always on the outlook for the hunters they meet in secret to grab an embrace, precious moments too share with one another only to have to part once more.

He lies down on the cold bed and remembers the little girl who gave him his first kiss. She was a beautiful woman now with ice-blue eyes and hair of chocolate. Short-lived moments of long ago he remember all to well, the clandestine meetings, stolen moments, a companion, someone to talk with, hidden from the spying eyes in every corner and then she was gone, eventually taken from him by her pretend father and he moaned to the lies told to keep her in line.

He crossed his arms over his torturing heart and his eyes close to remember the almost kiss in front of the fire, so close yet so far away. The crucial moment when she was giving into her feelings for him, a significant minute lost forever more.

"Maybe it was meant to be this way," he mutters to himself.

Her passions about them the same, nothing more, turning onto his right side and he hugs the spare pillow for comfort in this lonely room perhaps she was afraid of the outcome, no way to tell for sure and he remembered the cold words spoken by her after their return from the island burns deep in his heart.

"You run I chase. That decision was made for us a long time ago."

He spoke the words with pain. "Maybe that is the Parker curse." He twists once more.

The late night calls to her and the endless chase game that was all they would ever have between them and he weeps into the pillow. To end this masquerade, he could nevertheless the vow he would keep to her.

"I can't break my vow."

To be there for her when she needed someone, but her to be there for him not to be and he wonders if she would ever wake up and smell the coffee. A funny saying he had picked up from one of his partners in the law enforcement.

His mentor, a father figure to him and the years went by with him rejecting him as well, thirty years of confinement, their prodigy, at their beckon call. The complex simulations, experiments they performed on him, frightening times in his life and they continue to chase him like an animal but he wasn't, he is a person and he sheds tears.

The women he had on occasion with one coming to mind and he feels his lips take on a brief smile, nevertheless in the end he walked away because they used her like a pawn in their game of chess and he sighs to the straightforward reality that he can comment to no one.

He heaves a sigh about the woman that he left behind tonight, no option he could have about that and he tightens his arms over his chest. The taste of her sweet lips, the touches of her velvet skin warm against his and that sinful aroma of her perfume. Her fondness for him, passionate, and they made love for hours. He waited for her to drift of to sleep in his arms and then he left her behind.

A pretend, not this time for he clearly wanted to feel the unconditional love of a woman something that she would never give him.

His world filled with being a pretender of righting the wrongs that he had done. His vow to ultimately accomplish this goal seems futile at this point because of the endless counts of crimes in the world.

"How many people died because of what I thought up?" He would never know the answer to that repeated question with his right arm resting on his forehead and he stares at the ceiling.

A voice mail captures his attention and he sighs about the advisement from someone. 'Odd' he thought, deletes the email and walks into the bathroom.

Upon splashing cold water on his face, Angelo drifts into his mind his destiny to live inside the Centre until the day he dies. Then the computer whiz, Broots', and Debbie his darling daughter, he would protect them when the time came; no ones life was of value to them except theirs and the Centers' well being.

He turns the water off, and slams the towel against the wall with lips pressed strongly together, his face frowns, and walks back to the small table where his laptop rests, and sat down in the wobble chair.

He thinks about writing another novel, 'the hounds of hell, an account about him and the Centre, 'No', he thought. He had not done a Broadway play and he wonders if he would have the time, probably not, an epic or a song he would have time for that, but then again, it would be about her as his first novel does. Was there nothing to take his active attention off them?

"No", was the response back and closes his laptop with a heavy sigh.

The recalls of abduction flood his head and he shakes thinking about the trips back to hell, he was definitely more alert, he would make no more foolish mistakes; it would not be easy for them to capture him again.

He wonders what will occur in forty years when he is old and gray, to feeble to drive, run, or stroll for that matter and his body shacks to the image in his mind. A wheelchair he would be in with no way of remaining free in sight for him. He thinks of the day when, Parker would be chasing him in her wheelchair down the streets, or the halls of the Centre although on other occasions he would obviously find that funny and chuckle loudly, however tonight he saw no humor about it what so ever.

The offspring's would that be Lyle's children, Parker's? Who knew if they would ever have any children with his attention focused on the door, and he holds his breath upon hearing voices.

"Not them." He props two pillows behind his head weary on the bed.

The worst crime of the era and no one realized the difference. A think tank that was what they told people, he is insane and his family definitely wants him back, so many lies they would tell and they believe, so naive, but then did not people turns their heads away when they did not want to be involved. 'Yes that is the answer', he strongly thought with a gesture of his head.

The individuals that he had, had the pleasure of meeting and sharing their lives would be only a memory for him to cherish. The harshness of the villain screaming out his name after her confession formed in his mind. The 'thank you' from her brother, and he returns his attention to his immediate family and then the pretender disappears.

"Lucky me!" He slams the red notebook down on the bed for them to have and he packs he cannot afford to stay any longer.

He knows not where he will be this time tomorrow and he does a quick swept around the room, black leather jacket goes on and his life in a silver case, his cell-phone checked and the leather strap of his duffel bag swings onto his right shoulder.

Everything is a go and the door ajar to check the hallway he glances to the right and walks through the main lobby. The night air breezy, 'My cage is as big as hers now to travel the world alone', he genuinely thought with gloom and his rental car awaits him in the shadows of darkness. He looks into the rear view mirror for them and breathes a sigh of relief no one was around this time of night.

His pleads over the years to be free, to have his own life as they do, that was all he asked for, went unheard by them, they just laugh as though it was the big joke of the day. The heartless chase games would continue until the day of his death.

He knows this… there is no way out for him… thrashing his fists against the steering wheel….

Those were the cold hard-facts of his personal life and too think that maybe, just maybe one day they would throw their hands up in the air and say 'you win, I give up' and leave him standing there free at last.

He shut his eyes and a dream he wished that would come true he sees before him, a stunning gold box with red ribbon handed to him by the man himself, Mr. Raines, inside nothing but a card that reads, 'the award of freedom, I hereby give to you' that would be the most cherish gift of all that he could ever receive to turn to his right and, see her by his side with their hands interlaced both free forever more however he knows that this will never take place for him and he cranks his rental with teary eyes.

A telephonic discussion he thinks about having with her tonight, not a good idea, because she would pick up on his sentiments and try to use them for her benefit. Calling his mentor there would be no use in that either. To hear him say, 'it is time to come home,' rips though his heart no one to turn too, no one can image how he feels inside at this moment…not even his father.

That is how he feels….

The streets are deserted now and the homes that he passes by hopefully there are filled with love, tomorrow was another day to become someone else. To stay free was at the top of his list… To help those which to law enforcement has turned their backs on, to discover life's little treasures, to laugh, and most of all try to live as though he was dying each day of his life? All simple things that people took for granted and if he pleaded hard enough to God maybe he would grant him this one prayer.

"Where to this time?" he asks his eyes in the rearview mirror and drives under last streetlight into the night.

'The pretender' disappears until the next time around only he decides where and when he would turn up to say, 'Jarod…' and looks around the room for that last name, he reads the display 'Fletcher' chosen to be his fake last name while he is there, with a smile back to the individual.

An option of freedom--that is his and not theirs.


End file.
